Chapter Text
“Mikhailo-“
“Mickey.”
Laura sighs, placing her clipboard on the table and clasping her hands together. “Mickey, do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Nah, you got some shit on your lip. Can't focus on a word you’ve been sayin’.”
Laura rolls her eyes but casually slides her thumb over her bottom lip. “You will be staying in this house from now on. Kevin and Veronica are a lovely couple, they will take great care of you.”
“Yeah, I don’t need to be fucking taken care of. I’m fine by myself.”
“You are 16, Mikhailo-“
“Mickey.”
Laura narrows her eyes. “You have to go into this home with an open mind. You’ve been thrown around foster homes for years, and this whole game of yours is getting pretty old.”
Mickey looks at the ground. “Why the fuck can’t I just get a job and live on my own?”
“Because you’re a teenager. You are not legally allowed to live by yourself. Please just… give this a shot. Please.”
“Jesus, don’t get your fucking panties in a twist,” Mickey mumbles, leaning back on the chair. “Fine. I’ll go make friendship bracelets and shit. Play catch. Bake cookies.”
Laura smiles softly, laying her hand over Mickey’s tattooed ones. “Thank you.”
“Whatever.”
-
The house is shitty. It’s tiny and looks worn out, but then again, any house this side of Chicago will be shitty. Mickey almost recognizes the exterior before reminding himself every structure looks the same down here. It’s a nice colour, though.
“Mickey, I’m really proud of you for doing this. You’ve been through so much and every new opportunity you will have at this home will be well overdue. I just want to take a minute and-“
“Jesus fucking Christ. Let me out.”
Laura sighs, unlocking the door and stepping out. Mickey pretty much slams the door shut, glaring at the drunk old man laying on the pavement at the house next door who yells unintelligibly. “Watch the language while you are in there, Mikhailo.”
“Fuck off.”
Laura approaches the door and knocks gently. A large man opens it, along with a pretty woman hanging off his sleeve. The man looks Mickey up and down before speaking.
“I thought you were bringing a kid.”
Mickey rolls his eyes. “See? Didn’t work out. Sorry for wasting your time.” He turns around, but Laura places a hand up and stops him. The man splutters for a moment.
“No, no. It’s fine. Just- wasn’t prepared.”
Mickey peers into the house. Laura squeezes his shoulder and smiles at the couple. “May we come in?”
“Of course.”
Mickey walks in, looking around and trying to decide how much everything in the house is worth. Worst case scenario, he gets booted, and can pawn some of this for beer money and cigs. Veronica gives him a look and gestures toward the table, a fake smile plastered to her face.
“I’m Veronica, this is my husband Kevin. You can call us whatever you want.” She clasps her hands together awkwardly. “I made spaghetti.”
“Great. Enjoy. Where’s my room?”
Laura slaps him on the shoulder gently. “Mikhailo, please sit.”
He meets Kevin’s eyes, the man offering a smirk and sitting down next to his wife. Laura stands beside Mickey, handing a file over to Kevin. Laura clears her throat and rests a hand on his shoulder.
“So, Mikhailo-“
“It’s fucking Mickey, Jesus Christ.”
Kev snorts out a laugh, which causes Mickey to turn and glare at him. Veronica tightens her grip on Kevin’s hand. Laura clenches her fist in Mickey’s shirt, letting out a sigh of exasperation and stepping back.
“You have my phone number if you need to contact me. Behave, Mickey. I’m not kidding.”
Mickey rolls his eyes, staring down at his fists and running his eyes over his tattoos. Laura and Veronica have a hushed conversation at the door, meanwhile Kevin looks like he’s trying to study him. Mickey looks up and narrows his eyes.
“You want a fuckin’ picture, man bun?”
Before Kevin can answer, Veronica places a bowl of spaghetti in front of him, serving herself and Kev as well. It’s awkward as they begin to eat, but Kev carefully decides to speak.
“So, how old are you?”
Mickey picks through his pasta. “Sixteen.”
“Coulda fooled me. You must be able to get into anywhere, man.”
Mickey smirks a little. Veronica exhales and places her hands on the table.
“I think we should go over some ground rules,” she forces a smile. “Like.. no drinking. In the house. And no drugs, please. Cops come around multiple times a month, and I can’t be caught with shit in my house. Got it?”
Mickey nods, slowly bringing some noodles to his mouth. It’s good, he’ll give the chick that.
“And.. respect. We’ll give you whatever privacy you need, but you have to respect us. Vice versa.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
“I’ll show you your room after dinner.”
Kev leads him to a bedroom at the end of the hallway after they finish eating, Mickey not offering to help with the dishes and Veronica not bothering to force him. It’s a nice room, as nice as you can get on the south side, but Mickey especially takes notice of the window, big enough to sneak out of.
“Uh.. just put your stuff wherever. Do you like.. have a bedtime?”
“No, I don’t have a fuckin’ bedtime,” Mickey gripes, dropping his bag on the bed and flopping down. He closes his eyes for a minute, but cracks them open when he feels Kev still glaring at him. “Jesus Christ, can I help you?”
“No, just- trying to figure you out, I guess.”
Mickey looks at the clock on the nightstand. 8:05. He stands up and closes the door in Kev’s face, rolling his eyes. He slowly starts to unpack.
At around 10, a knock on his door is heard. Mickey waits for the person to barge in, but when they just stand outside his closed door, he clears his throat.
“Yeah?”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure. Yeah.”
Veronica enters, smiling a little at Mickey and leaning back against the doorframe. “How are you settling in?”
“Uh.. not bad.” Mickey wants to be harsh with her, but the last time he was impolite to one of the wives, the husband beat him until he was numb. So, he answers her questions lamely, hoping she can get the hint.
“That’s good.” She shifts on her feet for a moment, looking unsure. “So, the neighbours are close friends, and they invited us over tomorrow for dinner. I would really like you to come, if that’s okay.”
Mickey ponders it for a moment. “They got any daughters?”
Veronica chuckles, slowly walking to his bed and sitting down. Mickey tenses for a second.
“Yeah, one my age, and one who’s 10.”
Mickey scoots back against the headboard and frowns. “That’s shitty.”
“They’re dysfunctional. But entertaining.”
Mickey nods, looking down at his hands and clenching his fingers a little. The tattoos on his knuckles still hurt, the product of a bad trip and a tattoo artist who didn’t know what the hell he was doing and screwed up his skin. Months of healing barely scratched the surface of the relief he was expecting.
“So, you wanna come?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
Veronica stands, fiddling with the hem of her shirt and walking back to the door. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Mhm.”
“Goodnight, Mickey.”
“Yeah. Night.”
He doesn’t have the energy to sneak out that night.
-
Mickey has suffered through his fair share of awkward mornings. The risings following uncomfortable one night stands that he was too intoxicated to ditch, the scary dawns after nights when his foster families beat him black and blue and he has to pretend it doesn’t blind him with pain to sit down. But this… this is the worst morning he’s been put through.
The three of them sit at the table in silence, chewing on toast and avoiding eye contact. Mickey wants nothing more than to bolt, before a loud knock is heard on the door.
“V! I need you!”
“Aw, shit.”
Veronica stands, opening the door, and is immediately met with a small child being pushed in her arms.
“I need you to watch Liam for me. Please.”
“I don’t know, Fi. Mickey’s still settling in-“
“Who the fuck is Mickey?”
Kev gives Mickey a look of pity. “Just give them a minute.”
“Our foster kid, Fiona. I told you about this.”
“Oh, shit. Hi!” She looks at him, smiling. Mickey nods in greeting and finishes his toast. “Please. Just for a couple hours.”
“Fine. We still on for dinner?”
“Of course.” Fiona kisses Veronica’s cheek. “Hi, Kev.”
Kev gives her a grin and watches as Veronica closes the door, balancing Liam on her hip. The toddler squirms, and when she lets him down, he stumbles over to Mickey, grabbing at his leg.
“Fuck do you want?”
“Up!”
Mickey raises an eyebrow, looking over to Kev for permission. He shrugs and returns back to his conversation, not paying any mind to the teenager. Mickey slowly picks Liam up and places the kid on his lap, trying to fight back the smile playing at his lips, his hands holding Liam carefully. He briefly recognizes the kid, but shakes the thought off.
“Mickey, do you want to take him to your room for a bit?”
“Uh, sure. I guess.”
Mickey stands, holding Liam tight and walking back to his room. He’s never liked kids, but in a weird way, he’s thankful for Liam’s appearance. It takes Kev and V’s attention off him.
He likes them, sure, but his guard is still up. He’s been to plenty of homes where the parents have been lovely the first week, then Mickey misplaces a sock in the laundry and he’s being beat with whatever they can find on hand. He can’t trust these people
“Mi..”
Mickey looks down at the kid, frowning a little. “Mickey.”
“Meemy!”
“Yeah, whatever. Good enough.”
“‘Member.”
“Hm?”
Liam’s tongue pokes out from the corner of his mouth. He looks like he has something to say, so Mickey leans in closer, but the kid sighs in frustration and hits his fist down on Mickey’s thigh.
“Oh, the fuck was that for?”
Mickey pushes Liam gently, the toddler giggling and climbing back up. They continue to play fight for a little bit, until Mickey plays dead and Liam cheers.
They spend a while together, Liam rambling on in baby talk and Mickey pretending to understand. As much as he dislikes children, he’s good with them; that comes from his many years of having to raise Mandy and babysit the kids from his previous homes. It suddenly hits him. Liam Gallagher. He looked after the kid in a foster home a few months ago, if he can remember correctly. A knock at his door startles him out of his thoughts.
“Come in.”
“Hey, thanks for watching him. We just had to figure some shit out,” Veronica says. “I have to go to the mall, do you want to come? We can get you some new clothes.”
“I’m fine. Don’t need your shit.”
Veronica raises an eyebrow. “Don’t take this personally, kid, but you look every bit of the south side that we usually try to hide.”
“I’m not gonna go play fuckin’ dress up.”
“Then take my card and buy what you want.”
Mickey looks at Liam, as if he were making a negotiation with the kid. “Alright. Works for me.”
“Alright, let’s get moving. Kev will drop us off before work.”
The majority of the day is wasted at the mall, Mickey rolling his eyes whenever he sees a group of teenage girls giggling about whatever the fuck seems to be funny enough to cause such a disruption in public, but Veronica gave him her credit card, so that’s a plus at least.
He heads toward the ATM, taking out some cash and shoving it in his pocket before anyone else can see. He’s stolen a couple of clothing items, knowing how to avoid security like the back of his hand (which is still throbbing, by the way). Veronica took Liam and gave Mickey permission to stay as long as he likes, and told him how to take the L home, as if he’s a fucking child and doesn’t know how public transportation works. Still, he’s unavoidably anxious for dinner, hoping the family they’re meeting won’t be as uppity as he’s expecting. Mickey has no intentions of dressing up.
He grabs an outfit for tonight, a random pair of jeans he hopes will fit and a muscle shirt similar to the one he wears all the time, and pockets a container of hair gel and deodorant on his way out. He barely steps over the line before the alarm sounds, which is unusual, because Mickey never remembers there being working alarms in this area. He doesn’t have time to ponder this tonight before a security guard is yelling at him, and Mickey takes off, finding peace in the blurred footprints left by his dirty shoes, the only real evidence existing thag Mickey Milkovich was seen at a public mall.
He stops by a familiar alley on the way home, handing a couple bills for some drugs and a couple bottles of beer. He pockets the baggies and wordlessly walks back to the house, carrying too many clothes to walk comfortably. As Mickey approaches Kev and V’s place, he slides his eyes over to the house next to theirs, peering in their window nonchalantly and trying to catch anybody inside. When it’s decided the house is abandoned, he heads back into his own, placing the clothes on his bed and exhaling heavily.
God, he hopes the family next door is all as cool as Liam is.
——————
“Mickey? Are you ready?”
“Yeah. Christ.” He rolls his eyes, opening the door and shifting self consciously on his feet as Veronica smiles kindly at him.
“You look handsome.”
“Can we go?”
Kev joins the pair, sporting a bottle of wine and hardening his eyes when he sees Mickey staring. “Hey, this is for the adults.”
“Goddamn party pooper.”
“That’s me. Let’s go.” Kev grins. He goes to ruffle Mickey’s hair, but the boy flinches and swats at his hand, so Kev pulls back and shrugs. They walk over to the Gallagher residence, Mickey standing nervously behind his foster parents. He doesn’t like meeting new people.
“Fi? Oh, Jesus, what the hell happened?”
“I burnt the fucking cookies.”
Mickey looks around. It’s an alright house, decorated with personal items, and Mickey almost thinks of his old place.
“It’s fine. Kev, help set the table.”
Mickey stands awkwardly, sitting down at a random spot Kev points him in the direction of. Nobody else is downstairs, so he feels fine, until Fiona calls down for her family, and all of a sudden it’s like Mickey got a baseball bat to the chest. Before he can freak out and run off, Liam is punching his brother in the arm to be let down, and sprints toward Mickey.
“Meemy!”
“Hey, little man.”
Liam makes grabby hands for Mickey, so the teenager pulls the kid up and rests him on his lap. Liam presses his face into Mickey’s chest and breathes deeply, content and calm. It’s only then Mickey realizes everyone in the room has gone silent and is staring at him.
“Uh, the fuck are you looking at?”
An older boy shrugs, raising an eyebrow at Mickey. “Nothing, he just is usually pretty reserved.”
Before Mickey can start throwing insults, Veronica stands beside him and places a hand on his shoulder. “This is Mickey, our foster kid. Be nice. Please.”
“I’m Lip.”
“That’s a stupid fuckin’ name.”
“So is Mickey.” He grins slyly. “This is Carl, Debbie, I’m assuming you know Fiona, and Ian- where is he?”
“Working late. Said he would be back by 8.”
Mickey nods in greeting, Veronica pats his shoulder once before going to help Fiona. Liam chews on the front of Mickey’s shirt.
“He seems real close with you, man,” Lip comments.
“Was he in the system a while back?”
“Yeah. We all were. Happens every once in a while.”
“Think I had the kid in a home with me.”
Lip raises an eyebrow. “Ah, shit. Makes sense, I guess.”
They drop it, everyone breaking out into friendly chatter before the door swings open. Mickey flinches a little and turns toward the disruption, his heart stopping in his throat at the sight of the boy standing there. He’s tall, his hair messy and framing his face, and he has some big goofy grin that leaves Mickey’s mouth dry.
“Hey, sweet face. How was work?” Fiona smiles, pressing a kiss to Ian’s cheek.
“Good! Kash let me take home some snacks, so I have dessert.”
The boy, Ian, Mickey presumes, looks around the table before his eyes land on Mickey and Liam. He walks toward the two and bends down, getting at Liam’s level, which simultaneously puts him by Mickey’s chest.
“Hey, buddy. Who’s this?”
“Meemy!”
“Hi, Meemy, I’m Ian.”
Mickey blushes. He honest to god blushes, like some stupid chick. Before he can open his mouth and embarrass himself further, Kev speaks up.
“It’s Mickey, he’s our foster kid.”
Ian looks up from his position by Mickey’s chest. “Nice to meet you.”
Mickey feels a tug at his heart. He doesn’t want to make this anymore awkward, so he clears his throat and hardens his glance. “Yeah, hi, whatever.”
Ian raises an eyebrow, sliding his coat off and sitting in the chair next to him. Fiona and Veronica put the food on the table, Mickey instinctively grabbing for it before anyone else has a chance. He’s been in a lot of homes where it’s first come first serve when it comes to food. He can feel the family’s gaze on him, so he lifts his head and sends a glare around, everyone except Ian staring at him impolitely as if he were some animal in a zoo exhibit. The ginger boy is focused on digging through the food to make his own plate, starting to tell a story about his day at work.
Dinner is oddly normal, surprisingly. Nobody really talks to Mickey, though Veronica and Kev keep trying to include him in their conversations. When they’re finished, Mickey stands, heading over toward Lip and hesitantly tapping his shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“I got some joints and a few beers if you want.”
“Shit, yeah. Here?”
“Nah, meet me outside in a few.”
“I’ll grab Ian.”
Mickey scratches at the back of his neck, walking over to his foster parents. “Uh, think I’m gonna head back now.”
“Are you sure?” Kev frowns. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fuckin’ fine.”
“Alright.” Kev takes a pause before gently patting Mickey’s shoulder, the boy flinching but not slapping him away. “Good night, Mickey.”
“Yeah, yeah. Bye.”
He grabs the joints and beers from under his bed and throws them in his backpack, sneaking through the front door and meeting the Gallagher brothers outside their houses. Ian is wearing a heavy coat, blowing cold puffs of air, and Lip is glued to his phone, angrily typing away.
“Hey, Mickey.”
Mickey nods, shoving his hands in his pockets and inhaling sharply. He only now remembers he forgot to get a jacket at the mall. The three of them walk around for a while, settling at the park located at the high school. Mickey sits down by the slide and opens his backpack, lighting up a joint and breathing in deeply. He passes it to Ian, his breath getting caught in his throat as their fingers brush, and he coughs loudly, gaining the attention of Lip.
“Jesus, you ever fucking smoked before?”
“Do you want to fucking die?”
“Easy, killer,” Ian chuckles, passing the joint back to Mickey. Lip sighs heavily and stands.
“Karen needs me for some bullshit.”
“That your girlfriend?”
“Kinda. Yeah.” Lip grabs the joint from Mickey’s lip and takes a hit, wincing a little and passing it back to Ian. “Let me put my info on your phone and I’ll text you about a rain check. Sorry,” he says, grabbing Mickey’s worn out phone and typing something in before taking off.
It’s quiet for a minute before Ian reaches over, Mickey jumping slightly.
“Calm down,” Ian mumbles, grabbing a couple beers from the bag and opening them. He places one next to Mickey and takes a swig of the other, clearing his throat silently.
“So, do you like Kev and V?”
“They’re just doing this shit for the money.”
“Yeah.”
Mickey furrows his eyebrows, taking another hit before passing it to Ian, the other boy shaking his head in rejection. “That’s the part where you’re supposed to tell me they aren’t.”
“Not gonna lie to you, man. I love them, I really do, but I know they just agreed to do this for the cash,” Ian says, shifting a little. “Doesn’t mean they won’t like you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t fuckin’ need them to like me.”
“Alright, just saying, they might.”
“Fuck off.” Mickey swallows down some of his beer, shivering. Ian frowns.
“Do you want my jacket?”
“The fuck kind of queer do I look like? Of course I don’t want your fucking jacket.”
“Sorry.” Ian shrugs. He shuffles his feet before standing, dusting down his pants and looking off to the distance. Mickey thinks he’s about to walk out, but the younger looking boy points in a different direction. “I know a cool spot. C’mon.”
Mickey stares at him in confusion for a minute and grabs his bag, following the over excited kid. He stares at the fence ahead of them with his eyebrow raised, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never hopped a fence before.”
“Fuck off, Gallagher.”
Ian climbs over the fence, making grabby hands for the backpack. Mickey passes it to him and stands on his toes, trying to get leverage before jumping up. He almost wipes out at the bottom, but Ian grabs onto his arm, and for once, he doesn’t flinch.
“This is your ‘cool’ spot?”
“It’s not bad.”
“Whatever, man.” Mickey shakes, only then realizing Ian’s slender fingers are still wrapped around his wrist. He breathes in and pushes the boy away, sitting down on the bench and looking out at the baseball field.
“I used to play here when I was a kid,” Mickey says, opening another beer and looking out at the diamond.
“Really? Me too.”
“Yeah. Played one game in ‘02 and got booted.”
“Shit, what happened?” Ian asks, using the bar at the end of the dugout to start doing pull ups. Mickey glances at his ab muscles as they contract, taking a second before looking away and remembering he was asked a question.
“Coach said some stupid shit. Pissed on first base.”
Ian laughs. “I remember that.”
“What, you heard about it?”
Ian drops down from the bar, the same goofy grin on his face from earlier that evening. He walks toward Mickey and gestures to the diamond before grabbing another beer and sipping it, holding it between his hands. “I was on second.”
Mickey snorts, trapping his hands between his thighs and breathing out shakily. “This neighbourhood was wack.”
Ian sits down next to him, bouncing his leg up and down. “Man, you’re a Milkovich, huh?”
Mickey raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. So fuckin’ what?”
“I know your sister.”
The shorter boy freezes, turning to Ian and tilting his head. “You know Mandy?”
“Yeah, she’s in my classes. We hang out all the time.”
Mickey sniffs, lighting up another blunt and inhaling. “How’s she doing?”
“Pretty good. She was just at my house a couple days ago.”
Mickey suddenly stands, glaring at Ian. “What, are you two fucking or something?”
Ian shakes his head, looking a little frightened. “No, no, it’s really not like that. At all. I don’t like her.”
“Now you’re calling her fucking ugly?”
“No, Jesus, I don’t even- nevermind,” Ian sighs, blowing warm air into his hands and shrugging. “We aren't fucking or dating or anything. She’s just my friend. She, uh, she never mentioned having a brother.”
“Yeah, sounds right. Whatever, just fucking drop it.”
Ian looks down at his watch. “We should probably get back soon.”
“You got a curfew?”
“No, but don’t Kev and V want you home?”
Mickey shrugs. “Told them I was going to sleep. They won’t check.”
“Well, we can just chill here for a bit.”
“Yeah, whatever, red,” Mickey mumbles, sitting down on the ground in front of Ian and blowing out wind. They’re quiet for a few minutes before Ian speaks again.
“You good?”
“Just fine.”
Mickey sniffs, finishing off the blunt and dropping it onto the ground. His vision is blurring, and he can feel his heartbeat quickening, leaving his throat dry. He runs a hand through his hair and twitches, glaring down at the ground as it starts to spin.
“Man, are you okay?”
“Yeah, totally,” Mickey slurs, leaning his head on the bench and breathing out steadily. He closes his eyes as well, letting the freezing sensation of the wind and the panicked protests coming from Ian rock him to sleep.
It’s the first peaceful rest he’s had in a while.
———————
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Jesus, V, I think he OD’d or something.”
“You can’t overdose on weed, Kev. Give me a sec.”
Mickey’s eyes are torn open, barely able to lift his hands to sway at the imposing fingers. He groans lightly and shifts, thankful to find himself on a couch. He tries to recall his memory, and sits up suddenly when he realizes he’s no longer at the baseball diamond.
“Hey, easy, now. Lay back down.” Kev pushes on his shoulder lightly.
“What…”
“I think you took some laced shit.”
“Fuck,” Mickey blinks heavily and coughs a little. “Do you have to call that bitch?”
“What bitch?” Veronica asks, grabbing Mickey’s wrist and checking his pulse. When she finds it steady enough, she sighs and stands up.
“DCFS.”
“No. We aren’t sending you back, man. We just need to see if you’re okay.”
“I’m fucking fine. Can I go sleep it off or something?”
“Where did you get this shit?”
“Some alley, I dunno.”
“Come on, kid. This is serious. You could’ve died.”
“I wasn’t gonna die. You think this is the first time I’ve taken laced drugs? I’ll be fine in a couple hours.”
“Alright, but..” Veronica looks to Kev, mustering up something maternal on her face. It freaks Mickey out. “We are going to talk about this when you wake up.”
“Fine. Jesus.” Mickey slowly stands, Kev placing a hand on his back to keep him steady, to which Mickey slaps away and stumbles back to his room. He closes the door and collapses on the bed, breathing deeply. He only realizes when he stands to turn off the light that he has a jacket on, and with further inspection, he recognizes it as Ian’s. He sighs and digs through the pockets, trying to find his phone.
From: Lip Gallagher
Hey man text me when you wake up
Mickey scowls, typing out a quick response.
To: Lip Gallagher
wtf happened
From: Lip Gallagher
Whatever the hell you had was laced. You passed out and Ian freaked and called me. Had to carry your heavy ass home
To: Lip Gallagher
thts fucked
He waits a minute.
To: Lip Gallagher
ian good?
He cringes at the meaning behind his text, bouncing his leg nervously. He’s not an idiot, he knows deep down he finds the boy attractive, but as long as he can convince himself it’s just because he looks like a girl, he will be fine.
From: Lip Gallagher
Yeah he’s okay. He wanted me to give you his number though, he was rly worried
Mickey copies the number Lip sends him and types out a message, sending it before he can overthink.
To: Ian
im alive
From: Ian
that’s good. i would feel a bit responsible if i was there for your death
To: Ian
why tf did you bring me home
From: Ian
dude u were tweaking
Mickey cringes. He’s been laced many times before, exposed to probably every drug that exists, but he never has bad reactions. He supposes it was the combination of alcohol and stress.
To: Ian
whatever man thx
From: Ian
:^)
Mickey places the phone on his nightstand, slowly undressing and climbing under the covers. His head is pounding and his mouth is dry, but for some reason, he can’t fall asleep. He can’t help but think of Ian. The kid is almost his age, so there’s no problem there, it’s just the fact that he’s a dude and Mickey is not ready for that kind of jump yet. He just has to do what he always does when he has feelings he doesn’t want to have.
Ignore them.
He’s never believed in love at first sight. Hell, Mickey doesn’t believe in love in general. So, he closes his eyes harder, curls up a little tighter, and replaces the images of Ian with flashbacks of his father, holding a gun to his head as a woman takes advantage of his crippled state. It’s enough to scare him to sleep.
He just has to avoid Ian. That’s it.
It can’t be that hard.